


The Shenanigans Continue

by P1rateW3nch



Series: The Misadventures of Dar'Adhavi [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, In which the Daedric Princes are abused, The author plays fast and loose with the lore, screw the rules we're having fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P1rateW3nch/pseuds/P1rateW3nch
Summary: Dar'Adhavi finds her plans going awry, and sets out to Solstheim to fix things.





	1. Chapter 1

Dar’adhavi studied the ship from the shore. She saw a way into the main cabin without alerting the guards and grinned. She patted the bound and gagged mer on the head, ignoring his struggles. She nodded to Ravyn Imyan, and the Dunmer moved closer.

“Dar’adhavi can get into the ship. Just keep our friend here out of trouble, yes?”

He nodded, grinning wickedly in the moonlight. She downed the Waterbreathing potion and approached the shore. She felt a small twinge about leaving the former member of the Morag Tong with one of their sworn enemies, but she trusted him to behave. She slipped into the water, fighting down the instinctive panic as she took her first breaths of the sea.

Once she was certain of the potion, she swam silently to the moored ship. Once in the shadows, she held onto the rough wood as she coughed up the water in her lungs as quietly as she could. She recovered and tossed up her grappling claw, tugging to ensure the secure fit. She swarmed up the silken rope and perched on the guardrail along the small deck. She double checked that her second dose was secure and settled in to wait.

She brushed water out of her fur and clothes as she tried to eavesdrop on the conversation inside the cabin. One speaker had a quieter voice, and the other was far enough away from the window she couldn't hear anything clearly. She pursed her lips in annoyance. After nearly an hour had passed, she heard the heavy door open and close. She waited, slowly stretching her limbs, for another quarter hour to be certain her quarry was alone.

She picked the lock on the door, carefully slipping into the cabin. She saw her quarry lying on the bed and she slid past to ensure the visitor had bolted the door. She braced a chair under the knob to buy herself more time if she needed it and returned to the sleeping figure. She watched him sleep for a moment, then placed her hand over his mouth, restraining his shoulder with her free hand.

“Be at ease, your Majesty. Dar’adhavi means you no harm. This one only wishes to speak with you.”

She released him and he sat up slowly.

“You don’t strike me as a member of the Dark Brotherhood. Why are you here?”

She grinned. “As I said, to talk. The Brotherhood assassin who holds your contract has been… delayed.”

He watched her closely. “The Brotherhood won’t stop, you know.”

She snorted derisively and moved to study the bookshelves across the room. “If this one can persuade the… customer… to rescind the contract, they will. And if not,” she shrugged dramatically, “this one has an army of dragons at her disposal. The Brotherhood is taking its last gasps as we speak, it would be simple enough to put the order out of our misery, yes? But, we were speaking of other things.”

She turned to face him. He was standing by the door into the ship, examining how she had blocked it. He nodded and turned to face her. “So, you are the Dragonborn I have heard so much about. What can I do for you, that you can not do on your own?”

“Abdicate. This one can restore your crumbling empire and possibly raise it to new heights-” She broke off as he chuckled and shaking his head.

“Oh, child.” He gestured to a chair and sat slowly in the second. She sat, and he studied her face. “You want the power of the crown, yes, but you do not strike me as the kind who would settle into the day-to-day of ruling well.” He held up a hand as she protested, and she waited. “I am assuming you wanted me to abdicate so I could serve as an advisor, hmm?”

She nodded. She had lost control of this meeting and wasn’t quite sure how.

“Then hear my advice now. You are an excellent warrior, and I am certain you could unify Tamriel, and guide her to a greater future than even Talos had hoped. But,” and he winked at her, “you would make a poor ruler. As Emperor, I can not walk the streets of my city without a guard. My every move must be planned out months in advance. But you… right now, you have the freedom to travel as you wish, to act as you see fit.”

He trailed off, eyes unfocusing as he seemed to think of something. “Yes, that just might suit us both…” He fixed his gaze on hers. “If you are amenable, I have a proposal that might suit us both rather nicely.”

She raised a brow, tail twitching. “You have my attention, sire.”

He grinned. “I propose that you serve the Ruby Throne. Work in the world as I can not, and with my approval and authority, act as you see fit to reunite the Empire.”

She glared at him. “You would have Dar’adhavi do all the hard work while you take credit? No.”

“Not at all. I would make it well known you were acting with my approval, and I would honor any agreements you make in my name. It would be a partnership. I constantly receive missives of troubles throughout the Empire that I can not handle in a timely manner. But you could. And with your assistance, the Empire could shed the yoke of the Thalmor. And as I have no heir, well, the Dragonborn would more than satisfy the council.”

She sat back, blinking. “This one will consider your offer. And will work on removing the contract from your head.”

“A request, if I may, Dragonborn?”

“You may ask. Dar’adhavi does not guarantee that she will oblige.”

He grinned at that. “You say you can command the dragons. It would seem prudent to have one at least appear to serve me in your name…”

She laughed. “Alright. Dar’adhavi will ask one of the Dov to play watchdog. Likely Sahloknir or Odahviing will agree.” She cocked her head as she thought. “Or both. Dar’adhavi will ask.”

As she moved to the balcony door, the Emperor asked, “Send a message should you decide. And I will send you all the troubles you could assist with.”

She turned and bowed, then walked out onto the small balcony. She heard the chair being moved, and she grinned as she dove into the water. She swam back to shore, considering the proposal. _I wonder if I can wrangle a stipend out if this?_ She climbed the rocks lining the shore and nodded to Ravyn.

“Dar’adhavi is finished. Now,” she turned to the Altmer, pulling the gag free. “Dar’adhavi would like to know who contracted you to kill the Emperor, and what it would cost to… forget the contract.”

He spat at her feet and snarled, “I won’t sell out the Brotherhood to you, cat. You’ll get nothing out of me.”

“Pity.” She turned to go, biting back a grin as Ravyn drew a blade behind her.

“Wait!” the Altmer yelped. “Wait! I can- Maybe we can come to an agreement?”

She turned back. “Oh?”

——————————

Five dragons perched on the boulders scattered about the Throat of the World, watching the Khajiit pacing before a bare wall. Finally, she turned to them.

“The Emperor has offered me a position. I travel Tamriel under his authority and deal with the issues he can’t.”

Vulthuryol, a vibrant orange and black dragon, scoffed. “And what will you get from this position, little sister?”

“I get to do what I planned to do, without having to placate the nobles. He wants a dovah as a guard, and I’d like to see one of you there, if only to play messenger.” She sighed. “And because there’s a contract out on his head at the moment. The Brotherhood is unlikely to surrender it, but I have a few options.”

One of her newest dragons, a deep red and cream named Toormaarfeyn, stretched his wings pointedly. “The dov do not serve jorre.”

Odahviing Shouted him down. “This is intimidation, not service.” He turned to Dar’adhavi. “This sounds interesting. I will go and terrify the jorre in your name.”

She grinned at him. “Don’t eat anyone. You don’t know where any of them have been, and you might get sick.”

He laughed as he flew off. Sahloknir watched him leave, then sighed heavily. “He will be insufferable for centuries after this.”

“Most likely,” she agreed. She gazed in the direction Odahviing had gone. “Sahloknir? Go keep him out of trouble, yes?” She leaned against Vulthuryol as the larger dragon left. “And now I need to figure out how to deal with the Brotherhood.” She shivered as the wind picked up. “And build something up here so this one does not freeze to death talking to you lot.”

Vulthuryol curved a wing around her. “And how will you deal with your new problems, hmm?”

She scrubbed a hand over her face, thinking. “Delvin says the Night Mother has returned, with a Listener. They won’t give up the contract so long as they have assassins to throw at the Emperor.” She glared at the empty sky. "This one wonders… They must take a contract, yes? Dar’adhavi must speak with some people."

She looked over at Toormaarfeyn. “You can reach the planes of Oblivion, yes?” At the dragon’s surprised confirmation, she continued. “Can you seek Sheggorath and let Him know this one would like to speak with Him?”

Toormaarfeyn flew off, and she grinned at Paarthurnax’s annoyed grunt.

“Your disapproval is noted, and ignored, Paarthurnax. The Aldmeri Dominion is up to something, but this one can’t figure out what. The Emperor seems willing to help.”

The gray dragon studied her, then sighed heavily. “True. I will see what I might learn.” He paused. “I will also see about better protecting you.”

She blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“While you have the skills of a Dovah, you lack the armor of one.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You have the soul of a Dovah, yes, but it is housed in the body of a Jorre. I will see about finding you some scales.” She stared after him as he flew off.

Vulthuryol nudged her gently. “You might also wish to seek out a smith, sister. The bones of Numinex would make fine weapons for you.”

She glared up at him. “I won’t violate the dead. Besides, based on what Paarthurnax said, he’s been through enough. And I would like to bring him back, if at all possible.”

He snorted. “A few missing bones will be replaced, and your fangs and claws are no match for mine. Come, I will show you.”

She sighed and mounted, squeezing her eyes shut as he leapt off the side of the mountain. She could hear him laughing at her as he fanned his wings open and coasted toward Dragonsreach.

—————

The guards scattered as Vulthuryol landed on the great porch of Dragonsreach. Dar’adhavi grinned brightly at the two who stood their ground, shaking as they were.

“And a very pleasant morn to you. This one seeks an audience with Jarl Balgruuf, if he is not too busy.”

She slid off Vulthuryol’s neck as the doors opened, revealing the jarl, Irileth and Farengar flanking him. He seemed somewhat resigned as he approached, and Dar’adhavi felt a twinge of regret.

“Dragonborn. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Balgruuf began.

“Dar’adhavi has need of the remains of Numinex.” The jarl paled as Dar’adhavi continued. “This one can ensure a replica is made, so you do not lose standing, but this one will be taking them.”

Balgruuf huffed a breath, then sighed. “Very well, Dragonborn. The skull is on display above the throne. And there are several other bones in the treasury. I’m assuming your current… companion… will carry them?”

Dar’adhavi nodded. “Indeed. And Vulthuryol will behave in my absence. Your guards and city will be safe.”

“And I believe your wizard had questions,” Vulthuryol rumbled, obviously amused.

“Dar’adhavi needs to speak with a few others, so if you had no need of her…,” she trailed off, flicking an ear at the jarl.

“No. I will have the bones brought up and delivered to your dragon. You are free to complete whatever errand you had. Although…” he shot her a pained look, “I would appreciate it if you would enter by way of the main gate, without the dragons, barring an emergency from now on.”

She grinned. “Indeed. Dar’adhavi assumes the other jarls fear your perceived status.”

Balgruuf gave a dry laugh, and Dar’adhavi took her leave, heading for the Skyforge. She had heard Eorlund Greymane was the best smith in Skyrim, and she wanted to see his skill for herself. If he was as good as the stories claimed, he might be able to forge her a bow and sword. Possibly a pair of daggers, though she thought the Nord might balk at those, citing “honor on the battlefield” or some such.

She found him at the forge, hammering away at something under the great spreading wings carved into the mountainside. He turned his head to acknowledge her, but didn’t stop as she approached.

“And what can I do for you, Khajiit?” he asked, attention apparently fully on his hammer and anvil.

“Dar’adhavi hears you are the finest smith in all of Skyrim, and the Skyforge the best forge. She wishes to test this claim.”

The man laughed, lowly. “Really. And how do you propose testing this?”

She wandered around the forge, idly examining the tools and weapons lying around. “Dragonbone was once used to make mighty weapons, and the scales of same made for legendary armor.”

This time the laugh sounded amused. “And you think to see if I can forge you some?” He spat to one side, rising and shoving the steel into the trough nearby. “And where do you hope to acquire the materials for this test?” he demanded, moving to stand before her.

Her tail twitched in annoyance as she had to crane her neck to meet his challenging gaze. She held her tongue as she felt Vulthuryol approach. She raised one finger as the dovah glided in to land behind her, and she bit back a grin at the look on the smith’s face.

“Vulthuryol bears the bones of Numinex, and Dar’adhavi will bring you scales later. This one desires a bow, a sword, and a pair of daggers.” She stepped onto Vulthuryol’s wing and pulled several bones from the closest sack. “This one trusts this is enough?”

Eorlund coughed. “It might do better, Dragonborn, to have extra. The art of forging dragon bones is long lost, you understand. I’d likely make errors in the beginning.”

She pulled out a few more, adding them to the pile and Vulthuryol studied the smith.

“The old smiths likely wrote down the method,” he said, tone thoughtful. “Come, little sister. There might be a way to sharpen your claws faster.”

Dar’adhavi sighed and clambered onto his neck, straddling the sacks with the bones as Vulthuryol leapt into the sky.

“Khajiit were not meant to fly, brother of my soul. And I would like to see my horse again.”

Vulthuryol snorted. “And what does your horse do that I can’t?”

“Well, she’s quiet, for one. And she doesn’t terrify the people I need to talk to.”

He laughed as he landed on the Throat. She slid off and tucked herself under his wing as the wind picked up.

“You had a plan. Talk fast so I can find a warm dry place to sleep.”

“Patience, little one.” He roared a greeting to a pair of dragons who flew past and continued. “Hermaeus Mora likes to collect information. I am fairly certain your Lord will help you steal the secrets of forging dragonbone and dragonscale. If he will not, well, any of us could fly you in.”

She snorted. “And alert him to my presence, as well.” She sighed. “I’ll speak with Himself, see what He’s willing to do. And if that was all, I will take my leave.”

“There is the small matter of Numinex, and finding someone to make a replica for the jarl,” Vulthuryol mused.

Dar’adhavi swatted him. “Well, I do not know the shout. I saw Alduin use it once, but didn’t hear.” She waved at Paarthurnax as he landed. “I don’t suppose you know the words that can resurrect Numinex, here?”

“Krosis. I do not. Alduin kept that Shout close and did not share. However, if you insist on visiting Apocrypha, you might discover it there.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, there is a forger in the Guild. I’ll ask him to make the skull and see what insight my Lord can offer.”

She made her way down the mountain, waving a greeting to Borri as she passed High Hrothgar. The Greybeard nodded, but seemed content to let her pass without comment.

She hadn’t been avoiding the Greybeards, as such, but Master Arngeir had certain hopes about her arrival, and she wasn’t interested in following the path he saw for her. So she’d decided to not see the human leader of the Greybeards when it was avoidable. The trek down the mountain was uneventful, and she was pleased to see Rogue in a field, grazing contentedly.

The dapple gray mare lifted her head, whickering as Dar’adhavi approached, and trotted to the fence.

Dar’adhavi grinned, stroking the mare’s nose. “Yes, this one missed you, as well. We will travel together again, this one promises.”

She said goodbye to Rogue and entered the Vilemyr Inn. She paid for a room for the night, with a hefty bonus for keeping Rogue as long as they had. She waved off the offer of dinner and fell into bed as soon as her boots were off.

She was pleased to find herself once again in the courtyard of Sheogorath’s palace. She hadn’t been able to visit since Alduin fell, and she was starting to miss her conversations with the Madgod.

 _Which probably says a number of things about me, none of them good_ , she mused as she passed the great torches and Auriel and Mazken guards. She entered the throne room and walked down the two-tone runner, kneeling before the throne.

“Just because you are my favorite, kitten, doesn’t mean you can send your dragons to intimidate me.”

She looked up at the amusement in his voice. “No intimidation intended, my Lord. I simply needed to speak to You, to beg Your assistance in a small problem I face.”

Sheogorath glared at her, topaz eyes barely hiding his amusement. “Well, firstly, you plan on stealing something which is well out of My purview, and secondly, you can’t get there from where you are anyway, so it hardly matters. And, no, you don’t get a hint. Trouble will find you soon enough.”

She scowled at him, then bowed and took her leave. She was familiar enough with his moods to know she wouldn’t get any further information out of him tonight. She walked along the path leading to the palace, but Haskill didn’t seek her out. Resigned, she scaled up the side of the palace to admire the nebulae that painted the sky impossible colors until she awoke.

Shortly after dawn, she saddled Rogue and made for Riften. She would check on the status of the guild and see if the new forger, a Dunmer named Lloronea, could fabricate a dragon skull for her. She let her mind wander as Rogue sauntered down the road toward Riften.

Dar’adhavi sat up as a familiar scent caught her nose. She reigned in Rogue, looking around until she caught sight of the smoke through the trees. She dismounted, ground tying Rogue as she made her way to the campsite. She skirted the pen holding the frostbite spiders and approached the hunters.

They greeted her warmly, their leader apparently recognizing her from their last encounter. “So, Khajiit, how did the rope suit you?”

She grinned. “It suited this one very well indeed. This one is interested in acquiring several more lengths for her associates, and had a question, as well.” She paused as one of the hunters rose to fetch more ropes, then continued. “This one wonders, could this be woven? Some webs this one has encountered were very difficult to cut through. And, as you say, it is very strong. This one would like to know if it could make an armor.”

“What, weave a shirt and have someone stab you?” one of the hunters laughed.

“Well, weave a shirt and stab the mannequin wearing it, yes. This one does not intend to be the first.”

The hunters laughed, ribbing their companion as the leader looked thoughtful. “Well, we haven’t tried, but my sister weaves. I’ll bring her some and we’ll try it. What’s your name, Khajiit? I’ll send you a bolt or two if it works.”

“This one is Dar’adhavi, though this one travels frequently. There is a man, Brynjolf, in Riften. Send it to him, and this one will receive it.”

“Good. Now, I’ll be taking twenty septims for these ropes.”

She flicked an ear. “After testing your product and giving you ideas for more? Five.”

The man grinned, and the two haggled happily for some time, finally agreeing on ten. She collected the ropes and Rogue and continued on her way.

At Riften’s gate, she stabled Rogue and entered the city proper. She was hoping to grab a meal and a drink at the Ragged Flagon and catch up on the latest news with Vex, Tonilia, Delvin, Karliah, and Brynjolf, before checking in on the junior thieves. She’d slowly been shifting the Guild’s direction away from Mercer’s destructive drive toward more profit, slowly building up a rapport with the beggars throughout Skyrim. A small monthly expenditure was proving to be a valuable asset, as the beggars would cheerfully point any thief toward greater profits. Small bribes were also ensuring that the beggars would act as guard dogs for those inside places they shouldn’t be, frequently delaying the rightful owners or guards while the thief could slip away. She was planning on how to change the Guild’s standing in Riften when she was pulled from her thoughts by an unfamiliar voice calling her name.

“Dar’adhavi.” She looked up, surprised. The man was wearing robes of a cut she had never seen, with armored pauldrons and a mask of carved bone. He was flanked by two others, wearing similar attire. “You are the one they call ‘Dragonborn’, are you not?”

Something about his manner made her hackles rise. “It would depend upon who was asking.”

“It’s her! Kill the false Dragonborn!” He and his fellows drew swords, the leader hurling a fireball at her.

She dropped, pulling a knife from her boot and throwing it. It hit the leader squarely in the chest and he fell, gurgling. His companions kept coming as the guards on the gate waded in. Dar’adhavi hissed in sympathy as one caught a fireball to the arm and fell, screaming. She grabbed the fallen sword, rising and cutting through the mask and revealing a Dunmer, face contorted in rage. She ducked under his return blow, rising to impale him on her borrowed sword. She looked to the third, but they had fallen under the combined attacks of another guard and Mjoll, the sellsword who lingered by the gate.

Dar’adhavi dropped the sword and approached the fallen attackers as the guards helped their wounded fellow to her feet and the temple. She moved out of their way, then searched the masked ones for any sign of who had sent them. She also cheerfully pocketed their coinpurses as she scanned the note the leader had borne.

"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Dar’adhavi before she reaches Solstheim.

Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."

Dar’adhavi scowled at the note, then shoved it in a pocket as she followed the wounded guard.

She handed the masked Dunmer’s coinpurses to the guard outside the temple, nodding toward the wounded guard struggling to make it up the stairs. “For them. This one would have been filleted without aid, and she was wounded helping this one. Let the dead pay for the injury.”

The guard nodded. “I’ll see that Illdi gets it. Thank you, Dragonborn.”

She waved him off and made her way to the Flagon. She had a number of things to think about.


	2. Chapter 2

Dar’adhavi dropped onto the chair that Delvin kicked out for her and sighed, draping an arm over her eyes.

“What’s the matter, Boss?” the Breton asked, feigning innocence.

Dar’adhavi glared at him. She’d seen him in the market before the masked Dunmer had attacked. “Lloronea! This one has a job for you.”

Delvin laughed and rose, surrendering the table for her to complete her business with the Dunmer.

“What do you need, Boss?” Lloronea asked as she settled in across from Dar’adhavi.

“You’ve been in Dragonsreach, yes?” Lloronea nodded, and she went on. “You remember the dragon skull above the throne? This one needs a replica of it.” She studied the face of the forger. “Dar’adhavi can get you the real thing, but this one needs a fake as soon as you can get it done.”

Lloronea considered this, staring at some point above Dar’adhavi’s ear as she thought. “Won’t be cheap, and I’d have to get some help for some of it. Might have to go to a legitimate smith.”

“You will be reimbursed. And this one will cover whatever bribes it takes.” She met the Dunmer’s surprised look. “Dar’adhavi is willing to pay for skill. Not like this one had to work too hard for it.”

Lloronea rose. “I’ll get started on that. If you could bring the original soon, it would help a lot.”

Dar’adhavi waved, leaning back in her chair. “Please tell this one that there have been no major problems, and that the coin flows in like water.”

Vekel chuckled, placing a plate and a bottle of mead on the table in front of her. “That’s been the state of things, Boss.”

“Good. Someone find Karliah and Brynjolf. This one needs to leave Skyrim for a time.”

She straightened up and began to eat as the hidden door to the Cistern opened and closed. A chair scraped across the floor as her fellow Nightingales sat across from her.

“So, Lass, Delvin says you had a bit of a commotion by the gate,” Brynjolf began, eyes twinkling as he drank from his own bottle of mead.

Dar’adhavi snorted. “Someone wishes this one dead. This one will be heading off to teach them the depth of their folly.”

“And where will you be going? Ravyn said your discussion with the Emperor was uneventful,” Karliah asked, purple eyes studying the younger Khajiit.

“That did not go as planned, no. He will be naming this one as heir, but no, that is not this journey. Dar’adhavi is headed to Raven Rock to deal with the one who tried to have her killed.”

She flicked an ear as Delvin drifted over to her table. “Raven Rock, you say? I’ve got a brother out there, Glover. Think he’s turned legit, but he can help you out a bit.”

“She also said she’s the Imperial heir. You planning on leaving us, lass?”

She snorted. “Hardly. This one has seen how you act without supervision. However, this one will be seeking to… expand our influence, likely starting with Delvin’s brother.”

Delvin hummed to himself, and Dar’adhavi studied him. He was making a sincere effort to not meet her gaze. “Well, see, I ain’t exactly… communicated with Glover since he moved out there.”

Dar’adhavi sighed. “Well, this one will see what she can do about him.” She glared at Delvin. “You should write him, though.”

“I’m goin’, boss.” Delvin headed down the hallway to the Cistern and Dar’adhavi sighed.

“This one is not looking forward to this,” she muttered. “So, in Dar’adhavi’s absence, try to keep the beggars in line. And leave that one in Solitude be, Gissur. This one thinks she knows who he serves, and mistrusts them.”

“And what do you plan on doing about the Crown?” Karliah asked.

Dar’adhavi shrugged. “It looks rather fetching upon the bust behind the desk, does it not? But later, this one will attend to the war.” She considered, then sighed again. “But this one will likely need to step down as Guildmaster soon.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “Breathe, lass. We can keep the Guild running in your absence, and you can always send us a note to keep us in line.”

“That reminds this one,” she began, pulling out the spidersilk ropes. “This one has these, and possibly cloth made from the same material. Assuming the cloth can turn a blade, that is. Brynjolf, they will be sending it to you. Test it here, against a blade and arrows. If it stands as decent armor, this one would like a few tunics made from it.” She considered for a bit, playing with her fork. “See if it can take a dye, as well. White tends to attract the eye.”

Brynjolf stared at the ropes in distaste. “Why me, lass?”

“You are known as a merchant outside of the Guild. They can find you without exposing us.”

“Fine, then. You get to bed, lass. You look exhausted.”

Dar’adhavi waved that off but rose, heading to the private room she was granted as Guildmaster. She could feel the day catching up with her as she stripped off her armor and slipped into bed. She wasn’t expecting anything to trouble the Flagon or the Cistern tonight, and she could bathe before setting out to Windhelm in the morning.

She was somewhat surprised to find herself in Sheogorath’s courtyard, facing his palace. She shrugged and entered, preparing to discuss her current plans with him. He wasn’t there, to her surprise, and she settled herself on the steps of his dais to wait. She had just started to get bored when he appeared, lounging on the throne as if he’d always been there.

“Ah, Kitten. You’re making some very entertaining enemies. But, I do still have a use for you, and you’ll need a bit more protection than My name in the future. So, in light of that, I have a gift for you.” He leaned forward, dangling something before her eyes.

She took it, studying it carefully. She was surprised to see it was two necklaces, cords tightly entwined with rough cut stones softly clicking together. She looked up at Sheogorath, confused.

“Wear them always. They mark you as Mine, and any who threaten you will have to answer to Me.”

She drew back, hackles rising at the tone of his voice, but she slipped the necklaces on without argument. She’d almost forgotten how powerful her lord truly was.

“And one more thing.” He held out his hand, and Dar’adhavi approached cautiously.

He held another crystal, so translucent she could hardly see it. It was loosely caged in fine gold wire, attached to a fine gold chain. She took it, delicately.

“This little trinket will show you what you need to find, so long as you are in Oblivion.” He grinned at her expression. “No answers, Kitten. You’ll see what I mean in due time, in due time. Now, go and tweak as many tails as you can. This will be a very interesting trip.” He clapped his hands, startling her. “Now, back to Mundus with you, Kitten.”

She glanced up. “You know how to get the contract lifted from the Emperor, don't you,” she demanded.

Sheogorath laughed merrily. “I know the answer to all your problems, Kitten. The ones you don't know about, too. But what's the point in having a Champion who isn't clever enough to suss out the solutions on her own? Hmm? Now, no more talk, it's time you returned.”

There was a flash, and she sat bolt upright in bed, fur on end and heart racing. She growled softly as she settled herself, quietly cursing her patron for his dramatic flair.

A soft strike against her chest reminded her of the necklaces and she pulled them off to study them more. The pair he had offered first intrigued her. She’d never seen any gems like these. One was smooth, water-worn, and an almost sickly greenish-yellow color. This was encased in a web of knotted black cord. The second was a short spear of black stone, with faint spiderweb cracks showing a vivid green shining through. The point of the spear hung down, while the jagged root appeared dipped in gold, with a white cord looped through a hole in the gold.

There was some magic in them. She could feel it skittering under her fingertips, but it was strange. She couldn’t tell if the magic as on the stones, or of them. She shrugged and slipped them back on. Dar’adhavi doubted any harm would come to her here, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

She drew the separate crystal from her beltpouch. It was flawless, and clear enough to see through. The gold wire was fine enough she thought it would break under the weight of the crystal it housed, and the chain was not long enough to wear around her neck. She shrugged, placing it back in her pouch and began to collect her gear.

She wasn’t surprised that no one met her on the way out, they mostly worked at night, after all, and it was only an hour after dawn. But Karliah was waiting in the Flagon, a pack of her own tucked under her chair as she slowly tore apart a fresh loaf of bread.

“Guildmistress,” she said, eyes dancing in the shadows of her hood. “Brynjolf and I thought it best that you have a companion on your way to Windhelm.”

Dar’adhavi arched an eyebrow as she settled in across from the dunmer. “Oh? Worries that this one can not protect herself?”

Karliah laughed. “Hardly. But the assassins yesterday were rather vocal about seeking the Dragonborn, and Ulfric might seek to further his claim with you.” She took a sip from her tankard and studied Dar’adhavi over the rim. “Especially since you deprived him of the Jagged Crown.”

Dar’adhavi waved that away, tucking in to her own breakfast as she went over last-minute details with Karliah. They both knew she was only doing so to distract her from the foggy future she’d face on Solstheim. Finally, they rose, shouldering their packs as they made their way to the stables.

Karliah saddled one of the Guild’s horses, a stocky bay, while Dar’adhavi saddled Rogue. She felt a pang at the realization she’d need to leave her behind, but trusted Karliah to keep an eye on her.

They rode north, sharing idle gossip about fellow members of the Guild and other mutual acquaintances as they traveled the empty road. A mile north of Shor’s Stone, however, Dar’adhavi reigned in Rogue, craning around to scan the skies behind them.

She raised a hand as she heard Karliah loosen her bow.

“No. It is only Vulthuryol.”

Karliah nodded, slinging her bow back over her shoulder as the dragon landed in the road behind them.

“Greetings, little sister.”

Dar’adhavi rolled her eyes. “You hardly stand on tradition with me, Vulthuryol. Say your piece.”

He snorted. “Very well. Odahviing returned to the Throat with a message for you. He dropped it off and returned to Cyrodiil, apparently enjoying the furor his presence is causing.” He dropped a small, grubby satchel on the road, blandly watching as Dar’adhavi dismounted to grab it.

“That was fast,” Karliah murmured.

“Indeed, though I had the impression he had wanted this for some time, and was only waiting for the right agent.”

Dar’adhavi rolled her eyes again and pulled out the notes. One, small and folded, bore her name on the outer side, while the second was contained in a scroll case. She whistled lowly as she examined the case. It was gold, and intricately carved with rubies inset into the design. To her eye, it seemed as though the rubies were flawless, and the gold was pure. She tucked the case into her belt and read the first note.

“Dragonborn

Considering the conversation we had last, I thought it prudent to provide you with these documents. They are official papers, declaring you as the Imperial representative wherever your travels should find you. With these documents in your possession, you can speak for me in any capacity you might need to. Any agreement that is made with you will be enforced to the fullest extent by the Ruby Throne.”

It was signed with a scrawling signature that might have been the Emperor’s, but just as easily might have been the result of an insect walking through ink along the bottom of the page.

She sighed, tucking the note and the scroll case into her pack for now. She leveled a gaze at Vulthuryol as she mounted.

“What else, then? Because you’d have left, otherwise.”

The dragon huffed a half-laugh. “We heard your Thu’um last night. There is something…” he glared into the distance. “Power is building in Oblivion, and it is leaking onto Solstheim. You are driven to face it, aren’t you.”

She shrugged. “I was attacked by ones who claimed I was the ‘false Dragonborn’, and Miraak would show everyone the truth. They came from Solstheim, so to Solstheim I will go.”

He reared up. “You will let us come with you.”

“No.” The word came with all the force of a Shout, and she steadied Rogue when the ground shook beneath her feet, then continued, calmer. “If this Miraak is a Dragonborn, I will not see any of you slain in my stead. If he is not, well, it will be a simple matter to resolve. But all the Dov who obey me will remain in Skyrim, until and unless I call for them.”

She glared at him until he ducked his head. “As you command, Dovahkiin, thuri.”

He rose into the sky as Dar’adhavi coughed and blinked dust from her eyes.

“He didn’t seem too happy about that final order,” Karliah commented as they rode on.

“No. They all want to fight alongside this one, but this….” She sighed. “If there truly is another Dragonborn, he can slay them permanently. If he is a fraud, then stopping him will be simpler. Although… Both Sheogorath and Vulthuryol implied that this one will need to deal with another aspect of Oblivion. That is worrying.”

They rode in silence then, each mulling over the newest revelations. Finally, Karliah broke the silence as they approached the stables.

“Well, I’ll leave that to you, though I agree with the dragon. You do need some support out there. But, Brynjolf will run the Guild until your return, and I’ll ensure the forged skull is returned to the Jarl of Whiterun. Watch your back, Guildmistress, and shadows preserve you.”

Dar’adhavi nodded acknowledgment and shouldered her pack. She flicked an ear as she heard Karliah leading Rogue back to Riften as she headed across the causeway toward the docks.

She found the Northern Maiden easily enough and approached. Some Nord, she guessed Captain Gjalund, saw her approach and met her at the dock.

“This one needs passage to Raven Rock,” she began, settling her pack at her feet.

“Absolutely not. I’m never going back to Solstheim. There’s something strange there.”

She twitched her tail in annoyance. “You recently arrived here, yes? Ferrying three people in masks?”

The man paled. “Yes. I remember them approaching in Raven Rock, and then we were here.”

“You sailed with no memory? Curious, no? But those masked ones tried to kill Dar’adhavi, and she wishes to track down their master.” She felt her coinpurse and sighed mentally. “Will you ferry Dar’adhavi to Raven Rock for twice your usual fee?”

“Well, a man needs to make a living.”

She counted out the coins as he started barking orders to his crew and found an out-of-the-way nook as the ship pulled free of the dock. She handed the purse to the captain and settled down to wait out the trip.

Once the crew seemed to be done with the ropes, Dar’adhavi rose and walked to the railing. She enjoyed the feel of wind in her fur, and the sunlight glittering on the water and she allowed her mind to wander. She was pulled from her reverie when she realized she was staring at great stones under the water.

There was a snort behind her. “Aye. Some king or other thought to conquer Solstheim by building a causeway out to the island. Didn’t work, and the whole mess has sunk beneath the sea.”

She nodded, considering. _Might be useful, might not._

She spent the next few days wandering the deck and trying to stay out of the way. The crew seemed to appreciate her ability to stay out of their way.

She was roused from a light doze on the third day by Gjalund. “Well, here we are. Raven Rock. Can't say I'm too glad to see it again.”

She looked up, watching as the port came into view. It was strange, in a way. The architecture was alien to her eyes, with a smattering of more conventional houses on the outer edge.

She gathered her pack as the crew did whatever they did to bring the ship into port.

She was surprised to note a dunmer approach the ship.

“I don't recognize you, so I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander. State your intentions.”

She twitched her tail slightly at his tone, but answered honestly. “This one is looking for one called Miraak. Do you know of him, perhaps?”

The dunmer seemed taken aback. “Miraak, I'm… I'm not sure. But Raven Rock is sovereign territory of House Redoran. You are no longer in Skyrim and subject to our laws.”

“That seems reasonable. But you were saying about Miraak?”

He seemed flustered. “I… I don’t recall. I think he might have some connection to the Earth Stone? Perhaps?”

Dar’adhavi raised a hand, soothingly. “This one is also looking for Glover Mallory. Can you direct her?”

The dunmer relaxed at that. “Yes, he’s the blacksmith. Just down the main road, in the market.”

She nodded and headed where he had directed, absently listening to the captain try to explain his absence. The forge was empty when she arrived, so she decided to wander around the town. She was met with some quizzical looks as she walked, and spent a bit of time studying the armor the guards wore. One took pity on her and explained it was bonemold, forged of bone and resin.

She had reached the wall and was about to turn back when she heard, faintly, the sound of combat in the distance. She pulled her bow free, shouldering her quiver as she headed out, pack abandoned under a shrub. She strung her bow as she mounted a small hill and the combat came into view.

A dunmer, armored as the guards were, was standing alone against three creatures. She checked to see if any of the guards were coming, then sighed and began firing. The creatures seemed confused as to where the arrows were coming from, and their distraction gave the dunmer the space he needed.

After the fight was done and the creatures fell to ash, she approached.

He was leaning on his sword, catching his breath. "Thanks… I wasn't sure I'd make it off this farm alive. I wish I could have said the same for my man here. I’m Captain Veleth."

She nodded, poking one set of remains with her toe. “This one is Dar’adhavi. What are these things?”

"Some of the Redoran Guard have taken to calling them 'ash spawn.' Me? I don't care what they're called… all I know is they're a danger to Raven Rock and they need to be stopped."

She nodded. The smell of magic permeated the area around them. “So, what brings a captain out to a farm?”

"I was going to search for clues that might lead me to wherever they're coming from. I know it isn't the best place to start, but we know they've been coming from this direction."

Dar’adhavi studied him as she thought. He looked exhausted, and she doubted Miraak was expecting trouble so soon. Especially since the followers she had met were dead. That decided her. “Khajiit can lend a paw, if one is needed.”

His relief was palpable. "Good, I can use all the help I can get. Besides, I don't feel comfortable leaving Raven Rock behind, and I'd hate to lose any more Redoran Guard."

She started poking around the remains as she asked, “So, where do these come from?”

"No one knows really. Superstitious folk say they're the risen forms of those that died long ago, but I'm not so certain. They started attacking the Bulwark a few weeks ago. My men were able to kill them, but they keep coming back." He considered for a moment, then continued, "We've had two other assaults on the Bulwark at different spots on the wall. I know it sounds crazy, but it's almost like they're becoming more organized and probing it for weaknesses. Something has to be directing them against us and we need to find out who, or what it is."

Dar’adhavi hummed to herself as she found a scrap of paper tucked into one of the spawn. Scanning it quickly, it appeared to be a declaration of war. Oh, that’s just what I need, she mused, heading over to show the captain.

He read it, brow furrowing. "This is strange. The note says it's from General Falx Carius, but that's impossible." He caught her confused look and answered, "Well, Carius was the Imperial garrison commander at Fort Frostmoth, but he died over 200 years ago when the Red Mountain leveled the place. There's no way he could still be alive." He crumpled the note and addressed her, pulling a folded scrap of paper from his belt pouch. "If General Carius is still alive, there must be something keeping him that way. I need you to head out to Fort Frostmoth and check it out. I'm going to head back to Raven Rock and prepare the men for further assaults. Be careful, this General Carius sounds out of his mind."

He turned to go, and she sighed, following him long enough to collect her pack. She pulled on her armor in the ruins of the farm, tucking her pack into what remained of the rafters, then consulting the map he had given her. She headed toward the fort, grumbling to herself as she could feel the ash build up in her fur. It was almost enough to make her miss Winterhold. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I currently have five works in progress, so updates will be... sporadic, at best. I'm tryin', though.
> 
> (Currently in progress: this, a Mass Effect fic, a Harry Potter fic, a Fallout fic that isn't going to get posted until I finish it, and a stupid self-insert that I'm letting my inner twelve-year-old have fun with)


	3. Chapter 3

Dar’adhavi paused at the top of a small ash drift, studying the ruins of the fort. She couldn't see any movement, which was meaningless, given that the ash spawn could claw their way up from seemingly harmless ash drifts. She considered her quiver and fired an arrow into a training dummy half buried in the ash. The response was almost immediate, with ash spawn rising from all over the courtyard and descending on her arrow. She picked them off with impunity, then crept through the gate.

She froze, pinning herself against the wall as a voice rung out, announcing an intruder and commanding his men to destroy them. She held still, hardly breathing, waiting to see if any more spawn would appear. After minutes that dealt like hours with no movement, she relaxed and gathered her arrows, ears swiveling constantly to catch any wayward movement.

She tried the doors, swearing quietly until she reached one that was unbarred. She paused in the entryway, letting her eyes adjust as she picked off a few more ash spawn. She crept through the ruins of the fort, picking off the ash spawn and spiders as she went, until she found a key and a journal. She ignored the journal and headed back the way she came, unlocking the chamber at the center.

More ash spawn, and a human with a glowing stone in his chest. Dar’adhavi found a shadowed place on some barrels and started to take them out. The human called for support in the same voice she heard in the courtyard as she landed an arrow in the ash spawn closest to him. She put him down with an arrow in his eye and approached cautiously. He smelled dead, almost but not quite like a dragur, and she wasn’t sure what the stone could do. She didn’t relax until the stone was in her pocket, along with some other small trinkets lying around.

She left the fort, heading back to Raven Rock. Veloth might be willing to pay her for stopping whatever that was, and if not, well, she could find some form of compensation. She skirted the edge of the town, looking for secure places to stash supplies, just in case, humming a bit as she found a barrel full of wine. She caught sight of Veloth and approached.

“General Carius is dead again. He had some stone in his chest, and it appears someone else raised him for their own purpose.”

Captain Veleth sighed in relief. “You have our thanks, Outlander. Here. I have a small discretionary fund available to me, and I thought it best suited as a reward.”

Dar’adhavi accepted the pouch, tucking it into her belt as she fell into step with the captain. “Is there anything else this one can assist with?”

He sighed, annoyed. “There is. Several of the Guard have taken to drinking themselves insensate when off duty. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but they’ve found something more potent than the usual fare.”

“Emberbrand wine? This one found a stash of such back there,” she waved at the ruined houses hiding the cache.

“Well, then. That solves that little problem of mine. You have my thanks again. Should you need anything, if it within my power, I will assist you.”

She flicked an ear as she heard movement in the forge behind her. “Not at the moment. But this one must take her leave, and speak to Glover. May your road lead you to warm sands.”

She bowed shallowly and turned to the forge. She hid a smile when she saw the Shadowmark on the doorframe as she waited for the smith to notice her.

“Can I help you?” he asked, examining the blade he was working on.

Dar’adhavi grinned. “This one wished to speak to you. She has a letter, as well.”

He grunted, shoving the blade into the oil-filled trough and turning to face her. He set the blade on the anvil, grabbing the offered letter. Dar’adhavi leaned against a post, studying his face as he read the letter. She’d not opened it, choosing to give Delvin his privacy, but she could follow the general tone of the letter on Glover’s face.

His eyebrows were almost at his hairline when he looked up at her. “Well, this is… I think we should talk inside.”

She nodded, following him into his cottage.

“Delvin says you’re a Nightingale? And the new Guildmistress?”

She nodded. “So this one is. Mercer Frey had betrayed the Guild, and is dead by this one’s claws.” She cocked her head at him. “This one is also hoping to further the Guild’s interests outside Skyrim’s borders, and was hoping to recruit your assistance.”

Glover sighed. “I’d love to help, but I’ve mostly gone legit. There’s nothing worth stealing on this rock.” He leaned against a small table, running a hand over the fuzz along his scalp. “Well, that’s not completely true. Couple of people managed to steal from me.”

“Oh?”

He sighed, resigned. “Yeah. Crescius took my ancient nordic pickaxe, and Esmond Tyne…” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “He saw the shadowmark on the door, mentioned it. I thought he was one of us so I let him in. He took my plans for an improved bonemold formula.”

She shook her head. “Well, you are still of the Guild, as far as this one is concerned. This one shall see about returning what was stolen, and then we shall discuss business.”

“Well, that’s appreciated. You can leave your things here, and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’re in Raven Rock. Crescius is probably in the old ebony mine, and I don’t know where Esmond went.”

“This one will find him. But first, the pickaxe. This one assumes it is worth more than a common pickaxe?”

He snorted. “Of course. It’s more durable. And Crescius is determined to get into that mine.”

She sighed. “Very well. This one will head to the mine, then.”

Glover showed her where she could leave her pack, directing her toward the mine at the city’s edge. She stopped just inside the mine, brushing as much ash out of her fur as she could.

_This Miraak will have much to answer for._

She heard voices and slipped into a shadow, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Dammit, woman, I said to leave me be!”

“Crescius, last time you explored the mine, you almost fell to your death!”

Dar’adhavi sighed and walked into the light. The couple continued their argument as she approached, the old Nord demanding to be left alone, as the Dunmer woman begged him to stay, claiming she did not wish to be a widow. The Nord glared at Dar’adhavi when she stepped into his line of sight.

“Who the blazes are you? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

She twitched her tail in annoyance. “This one is here to collect a stolen Ancient Nordic Pickaxe for Glover Mallory, but…” She sighed. “This one is younger and better suited to travels in the dark. Perchance this one could help you find your ancestor’s remains?”

He considered her, eyes narrowing. His wife smacked his arm.

“Yes, absolutely. Here, this is a letter and a key that belonged to him.” The woman swept a book off the desk, shoving it at Dar’adhavi. “His name was Gratian Caerellius. The East Empire company said he died down there in a rockfall. If you can find his remains, he should have a journal. You’re welcome to anything you can find down there, and I’ll see to it that Glover gets his pickaxe back. And, we’ll pay you, if you come back with any information.”

Dar’adhavi raised a brow, taking a step back as Crescius wheeled on the Dunmer. Before he could speak, she laid into him. Dar’adhavi slunk past the arguing couple and headed deeper into the mine. She kept to the shadows, picking off the frostbite spiders and occasional skeever that had taken up residence, following the path of the mine. She found a few dead ends, but they didn’t slow her for long. At the end of the dug out area, she found a wooden wall, with several loose boards.

She approached the wall, carefully scenting the air. The air smelled fresh enough, and she could tell there was water ahead, as well as some dragur.

_Well, this should be fun._

She pried off the loose boards, unsurprised to find the area beyond mined as thoroughly as the entrance. She followed this new path, pleased to find a small strongbox near a gate. The strongbox yielded a diamond, some coin, and a necklace with the East Empire emblem on the pendant. She pocketed them, then tried the key on the gate. It opened easily, and she walked on, tail twitching.

She paused as she studied what lay ahead. It appeared that the old miners had stumbled upon a ruin, similar to the ones in Skyrim. She shrugged and crept onward, slipping past the dragur, and picking off the ones she couldn’t avoid. She didn’t see anything that looked like the recently deceased, but she did find several gemstones and a fair amount of coin.

Deeper into the ruin, she found an opening into a massive cave, with a door on the wall opposite.

“Well. I guess I found the rockfall.”

She secured the spidersilk rope and carefully lowered herself down. She left the rope for now, in case she needed an exit, and walked deeper into the cave. She found some skeletons mixed with the remains of some dragur in the ruins of a campsite. Shrugging, she rooted through the packs, unearthing a journal, a sword that reeked of magic, and several coins.

She pocketed the coins, scanning through the journal. It was Gratian’s, claiming the ruins were of the Bloodskaal clan and the sword the Bloodskaal Blade. She rolled her eyes. Named weapons were never worth the drama. She studied the door and Gratian’s sketches and scowled.

“You were supposed to be a scholar. How could you miss the answer before you?” she demanded of his skull, rising and raising the blade.

Carefully, she swung the sword, practicing on aiming the ribbon of light at the stones around the chamber before finally striking the door. Once she had hit the pattern engraved on the door, it slid open, revealing what looked like a hall of stories, hung with row upon row of swinging blades. 

Dar’adhavi swore. There was likely something in there, and an incredibly dangerous something, at that. She glanced back at her rope and sighed, annoyed. _Well, nothing for it._  She collected her rope, stowing it in her pack as she approached the open door again. She stood for a bit, watching the blades, timing her movements carefully. She slid under the first set of blades, berating herself. _You could leave. Yes, leaving the door open means it’s likely that whatever is in here will slaughter the town, but that hardly concerns you, does it?_ She sighed, slipping under the final set of blades. _A week ago, I wanted to be Empress. I should actually hold myself to a higher standard._ She pulled the lever, hearing the blades stop behind her as the portcullis before her rose.

She walked into a flooded chamber, a word wall on the far shore, and a large chest before her. As far as she could see, the chamber was empty save for those. She crouched, pulling shadows around her as she walked around the edge of the pool. She could faintly see something in the water. She stopped halfway around the pool, drawing her bow and picking up a small stone. She tossed the stone to the far edge of the pool, drawing and nocking an arrow as the water boiled. 

A dragur, wearing a mask of the dragon cult’s priests, rose from the water, screaming at where the stone had fallen. Dar’adhavi nodded, shooting it in the back of the head and moving as it whipped around, charging where she had been. She continued to shoot it and move, relaxing as it collapsed into ash at last. She read the wall, twitching her tail at the praise to Miraak, and searched through the chest. She wasn’t too surprised to see it was empty. After all, it made for a very attractive trap for the foolish. She shrugged and headed through the second door. It opened, revealing a greenish-black book on a pedestal. The book simultaneously attracted and repelled her and she walked past it, intending to leave it untouched. 

But she found herself standing before it, whispers echoing in her ears.

“Fine,” she snapped, grabbing the book.

She opened it, unnerved to see the words swirl around the page as tentacles emerged from the pages, pulling her in.

When her vision cleared, she found herself standing on a platform, surrounded by water of the same blackish-green color as the book. There were towers of books and scrolls. Slowly, she spun in a circle, but there was no obvious exit.

“So, another seeker after knowledge enters my realm. I am Hermaeus Mora, Prince of Fate and Lord of Secrets. This is Apocrypha, where all knowledge is hoarded.Perhaps you will prove clever enough to uncover the secrets hidden here. If so, welcome. Perhaps you are a fool or a coward. If so, you are in peril. Read your book again and escape before Apocrypha claims you forever.”

She swore, realizing what Sheogorath’s warning had meant. Her beltpouch jerked and she swore again. She dug the clear crystal out, unsurprised to see it was floating, pointing in a particular direction. It didn’t appear to be the exit, but nothing was ever what it appeared to be in Oblivion. She followed the crystal, scowling at it when it collided with a pillar of books and scrolls. She tried to pull it clear, but it stuck fast to the scroll it landed on.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the scroll free, tucking it into the slim pack she wore under her quiver. Once the scroll was secure, the crystal floated, pulling her in a different direction. She followed the crystal, resigning herself to a few hours of aimless wandering.

 _At least Hermaeus Mora doesn’t seem annoyed by my presence_ , she consoled herself, following the crystal as she scaled a pillar of tightly packed books. The crystal landed on a tattered-looking journal, wedged firmly into the pillar. She sighed, settling herself and pulling a dagger from her boot to prise the journal free. It eventually slid loose, and she slipped it into her pack as the crystal tugged her in a new direction.

Dar’adhavi followed the new path cautiously. There was a smell ahead that had her hackles rising. She dropped to a crouch, slowly easing her way from shadow to shadow. The crystal seemed to respond to her movements, as it was still guiding her, but more gently. She rounded a corner, freezing as she caught sight of a daedra. It had its back to her, apparently content to act as caretaker for the books and scrolls scattered around. Slowly, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself, she pulled her bow free, nocking an arrow as the daedra moved to a different section. Dar’adhavi swore under her breath as she caught sight of the thing’s face. It bore more than a passing resemblance to the masks worn by the would-be assassins in Riften. That decided her. She loosed the arrow, silently moving to a new hiding place as the arrow landed.

She swore again as the daedra summoned two copies of itself, seeking out her hiding place. She scented the air, then aimed at the middle daedra. It fell, the other two vanishing as it did. Dar’adhavi approached, but it was nothing more, now, than a tattered cloak. The crystal moved, jabbing at the pile of cloth. Dar’adhavi arched an eyebrow at it, then rooted through the remains, unearthing the scroll the crystal wanted.

Dar’adhavi continued down the path, dodging a tentacle that emerged from a pool as it whipped through the air. The crystal directed her to a dead end, occupied by another floating tentacle-faced daedra and a small cyclone of loose pages. She sighed, shooting the daedra twice in rapid succession, then poked through the books and scrolls it left behind. There was nothing to interest her, or the crystal, which was insistently pointing at the cyclone.

She released the crystal, snatching the page it attached to. Once she held it again, it continued pointing at the cyclone.

“Are you sure?” she asked, wry, as she loosed the crystal again. It connected to a second sheet, which she added to her growing collection.

Twice more the crystal attached to loose sheets in the cyclone, before it fell, dangling at the end of its chain, as lifeless as it had been on Nirn.  

Dar’adhavi shrugged, tucking it back into her pouch and seeking the exit. She crept through the halls, thinking over what she had seen and been told as she made her way out.

She paused at the tunnel’s end, studying the room before her. She could see two platforms, elevated from the main room, across from the tunnel exit. The defining feature of the room below, however, was a massive pool, filled with the same inky black fluid that rippled under the small island. Her ears pinned back, tail lashing as she considered the pool. The smaller ones she had passed birthed tentacles that whipped past her with enough force to wound. A pool of this size likely housed something far worse.

She scanned the rest of the room, spotting a small scrye on the far wall. She sighed. There was no way to get anywhere in that room without moving dangerously close to the pool. She counted her arrows and swore softly. Ten. She unslung her pack, swearing again as she realized she’d foolishly left her sword with Glover. She pulled the Bloodskaal blade loose, laying it in easy grabbing distance, just in case. She winced, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. The sword was far heavier than she was accustomed to, and she would tire much faster if it came to a fight.

She retreated a bit, grabbing an empty soul gem from a table. She tossed it into the air, catching it and considering its weight. Nodding to herself, she crouched beside the sword, hurling the gem into the pool.

The reaction was immediate. The water boiled, and a massive daedra rose, roaring and spitting poison in an arc.

Dar’adhavi hissed, firing two arrows in rapid succession. The second arrow must have hit something important, as the daedra froze, falling onto its face. Dar’adhavi took advantage, shooting it until she ran out of arrows. Tail lashing, she dropped the bow, scooping up the Bloodskaal blade as the creature staggered to its feet. 

She swung the blade, lashing the daedra with a ribbon of red light. The daedra turned to face her, roaring again. She roared Fire Breath back at it, lashing it with another ribbon as it staggered back from the flames.

Thankfully, it fell under the combined attack, and Dar’adhavi allowed herself to collapse in relief.

She tucked the sword back into her pack, slowly approaching the creature to see what arrows she could retrieve. She slipped the small amount of gems and jewelry that decorated the daedra into her pouch, then turned to face the platforms. She triggered the scrye, flicking an ear when the far platform grew a set of stairs, gate swinging open.

She searched the platform, discarding most of the books and scrolls, deciding to leave instead of indulging in her avarice. A scrye on the platform triggered a second set of stairs, leading to the next platform. She followed the new staircase, eyes narrowing at the book on the pedistal before her.

It was the same book she had opened in the barrow, the sigil on the front glowing with a pulsing light, like a heartbeat. She opened it, studying the sigils that appeared. She touched the third, shuddering as she felt the magic slide down her spine.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the chamber in the ruin, the book lying harmless before her. She sneered at it, but opened her pack to bring it with her. She was surprised to see the papers still there, but planned to deal with them later, after she’d returned to Raven Rock. She headed up the stairs, dropping to a crouch when she heard voices ahead.

It was a tomb, similar enough to all the ones she’d passed through in Skyrim, and full of bandits. She rolled her eyes at the bandits, mercilessly taking them out from the shadows. Once she was clear of the ruins, back in the open air, she paused, considering. The tower she was facing was obviously a part of the bandit group she’d just wiped out in the tomb, with even more bandits preying on the populace.

She shook her head, choosing to avoid the fight and scale down the mountainside. She was on the far side of the range from Raven Rock, and the sun was slipping below the horizon. She’d get clear of the bandits, find a place to make a camp, and read what she’d stolen from Apocrypha.

Dar’adhavi scaled the closest ridge, seeking out the fastest path to Raven Rock. She nodded to herself and headed down a game trail. Once she was a decent distance away from the bandit camp, she started looking for campsites, finally settling on a small overhang. She tucked her pack under the rock, setting out to find enough wood for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making this my 2019 NaNo, so I should actually update somewhat frequently.
> 
> Comments are love! And feel free to bother me on my Tumblr, same username.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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